The FEAR

Fear. It's a part of every new venture. For some, it paralyzes, leaving them caught between the old & familiar and the unknown. When I was twelve, I jumped off the roof of our summer home, "just because" and I remember the hesitation, the pendulum that swung between embracing the risk and shrinking back in doubt. I caught that pendulum on the upswing, leapt, and landed on my butt rather painfully in the flowerbed.

Every time I start a painting, I am embarking on a maiden voyage and fear is very much a part of that. I fear that I will be unable to capture my vision in paint, to meet the goal for that particular piece. A larger fear is that I will never be the artist that I want to be.

In the midst of every painting, I find myself smothered again by fear. I get to a certain point in every piece where to continue is to risk ruining what I have done so far, but to stop would be giving up. I labour under a sinking sensation of impending failure, but I always keep painting, though in the worst episodes my strokes and glazes are timid indeed.

My current piece, the Bauhinia bloom, is saturated with fear - I have it sitting here on my computer desk and just to look at it is to be overwhelmed. I don't know why this one has been so hard for me - I am thinking that in future I should avoid realism and focus on the more enjoyable impressionistic interpretation of my subject. Painting all those details is too much like work.

I love the fact that I am a person who can plunge in and ignore my fear. The worst I can do is fail in the attempt - but at least I'll know I tried. As I study and plan my next project, delving into the realm of children's book illustration, I feel a throat-closing sense of inadequacy. It's the business part of art that's scary - if I had no one but myself to please, I'd be a little easier on myself. But art to be shared requires a more critical eye, and a personal goal of climbing a little higher up the mountain that is skill and inspiration combined.